


flying in circles

by smolalienbee



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, The Camerata (Transistor), basically characters from dbh in transistor's universe, kind of, possibly a beginning of a larger story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 01:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20219176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolalienbee/pseuds/smolalienbee
Summary: Connor is a young and eager editor for the OVC who only has his eyes and his heart for Cloudbank, the city he has grown up in. He joins the Camerata hoping to change the city for the better. What he doesn't realize is that soon he'll be forced to watch his entire world crumble right under his fingers.A crossover/AU where characters from DBH are placed in the Transistor's universe. Knowledge of both games is advised, but not neccessary.





	flying in circles

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so guess what, this is a super niche AU that I feel like hardly anyone is going to read/enjoy and yet I'm super excited about the idea, whoops. This started off as a twitter thread I wrote yesterday (you can read it [here](https://twitter.com/smolalienbee/status/1160563430056747008)) and I very quickly decided to expand on it a little bit and turn it into a one shot to post here. It may be a beginning to a longer story (I have an idea how things could go from here) but I'm not sure if I'll actually ever get around to writing it.  
For anyone that decides to read it, thank you and I hope you'll enjoy it!

“_Welcome to the Camerata, Connor.”_

_Hank's grinning at him and Connor knows his lips are twisted_ _up in a similar manner. They're finally here, after talking about it for many, many days. They're here._

_Hank's hand is outstretched_ _and on his palm, a circular badge, an emblem of the Camerata. It's red and black and gold, with the Transistor and the Cradle right in the middle of it. _

_Connor reaches to take it and Hank speaks again as he does._

“_Together, sweetheart, we're going to change the fuckin' world.”_

That was a long time ago. Connor still remembers the day he had officially been made part of the Camerata. He remembers clearly how he felt back then. Connor had always been a little idealistic, perhaps naive, even. Still, his intelligence and passion had gotten him far in life. By the time he joined the Camerata, he felt that he could move mountains.

Connor used to be an editor for the OVC. With a keen eye and the ability to make the words flow on paper, people had taken a quick liking to him. He was interested in none of them, though. He only had his eyes and his heart for Cloudbank, the city he had grown up. The city that everyone had known little about and Connor had been determined to change that. It was during his long research that he met Hank.

Hank Anderson, the longest-working administrator in Cloudbank's history. He made a name for himself early on and continued to gain the citizens' respect over the years. Connor knew how much he needed to approach the man. If there was someone who knew a lot about Cloudbank's history, it had to be Hank Anderson.

“_My name is Connor Stern, I'm an editor for the OVC.”_

_Hank smiles faintly_ _at him and nods. He takes his hand, squeezes it firmly_ _then gestures for the both of them to sit down. He's gruff, but polite, Connor has immediately noticed. It's clear Hank used to be a people's person, but has became more closed off over time._

“_I know, Connor. I know the names of all editors in Cloudbank, though I'm pretty sure you realize that.”_

“_Oh,” Connor sits down slowly, his posture stiff, hands folded in his lap. He's nervous, though he'd never say it out loud._

“_So what do you need from me, Connor?”_

“_I want to learn about Cloudbank.”_

After their first meeting, Connor's life quickly got turned upside down. While both of them were quite liked by the city's community, neither of them was close to anyone in particular. Hank used to have someone, Connor found out, but he rarely spoke of them. At the time when they first met each other, they had no one. What they did have was a lot of free time and a deep interest in Cloudbank and the Process. They had quickly found a common language, their meetings growing more and more personal over time. They had first shared words, then drinks and eventually, touches.

Amidst their many conversations, Hank was the one to tell him about the Camerata. The Camerata, a group founded by Hank and one more person, someone who couldn't be called a friend of Hank's, not exactly – Anderson scoffed whenever it was implied they were friends. That man was Elijah Kamski.

A genius engineer, a prodigy, who had made a name for himself at an even earlier age than Hank or Connor. Mysterious and quiet, someone who hid in the shadows and orchestrated the physical movements of the entire city. The general public wasn't aware of his existence, unless someone dug deep into the city's registry. He was well known in the administrative circles and most of the OVC editors knew of him, as well. Connor had heard his name before, but it wasn't until he met the man that he fully realized just how deep his knowledge of the Process was.

“_The Process... fascinating, isn't it? The Process is a canvas, Connor. And the Transistor is a perfect brush with an infinite use.”_

_Connor feels tense in Elijah's presence. There's something about the man that puts him on edge, no matter what. Hank's standing next to them, his arms crossed on top of his chest. He sighs heavily_ _and shakes his head._

“_This was supposed_ _to be a quick introduction, Kamski. You really_ _don't need to go off on your damn tangents about the Process, not now.”_

_Elijah doesn't take his eyes off Connor, not even as Hank speaks. Connor feels as if Elijah's blue eyes are piercing right into his soul. He shivers._

“_It's okay, Hank, this... this is very interesting.”_

Elijah's knowledge of the Process was the reason why he and Hank had gotten to work together. They founded the Camerata upon their shared interests, upon their wish to change Cloudbank.

The last, but not least, part of the Camerata was Chloe. Sweet Chloe, with her bright eyes, blonde hair and a gentle smile. She was a long time friend of Elijah's. How the two became friends in the first place, Connor had no clue. They were incredibly different from each other, like fire and ice, summer and winter, the sky and the ground, or any other poetic comparison. She was a smart woman, of course, but perhaps what stood out most about her was how likeable she was. People didn't just like her from afar, it was much more than just looking up to her or admiring her. People were her friends, immediately, suddenly. She had this way of being with others that put them at ease, that made them open up and warm up to her. She had done a lot of charity work and various jobs related to public speaking. She was beautiful and kind and in many people's eyes, she was perfect. Some would go as far as to call her an angel, but she'd laugh and brush it off. She was what the Camerata needed to gain new allies.

“_You're Connor, right?”_

_Chloe's quick to pull Connor into a brief hug, she's all smiles and openness and vibrant energy. Connor almost feels dizzy from it._

“_I've heard a lot about you, Hank's been praising you so much. I've been looking forward to meeting you.”_

_Casting a quick glance towards the administrator, Connor can see that his cheeks are flushed_ _and he's grumbling under his breath in embarrassment._

“_I'm so happy you'll be one of us, Connor. We can do so much together, I'm sure!”_

Chloe had always had such a genuine belief in the Camerata's mission. She saw the best in people and she wanted to bring it out in all the citizens of Cloudbank. Admittedly, at the time, Connor also felt like they could change the world, improve it. The four of them, together. The Camerata.

Once Connor officially joined the group, things slowed down, if just a little. Engulfed by research, Connor and Hank had gotten married without any grand ceremonies. A mere formality, more so a precaution than a show of their love. With the Camerata working hard by night and day, they didn't have the time for a proper ceremony or even a honeymoon. With the papers signed and the rings on their fingers, they quickly got back to work. Everything was going well, they were making steady progress. Connor's incredible mind pushed them forward a significant amount in their research on the Transistor.

But their quiet happinness had to have an end. Everything started falling apart right under their fingers.

“_What we're doing here, /administrator/, is much more important than your /sentiments/. You should know we're not doing this to bring back-”_

“_One more fucking word and I'll shut you up myself, Kamski!”_

_Connor's sitting at the desk, bent over various papers and blueprints. His hands clasped over his ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the sounds of a shouting match going on behind him. They've been going at it for a while and Connor's pounding headache is just_ _getting worse. _

“_Would the two of you, /please/, take it somewhere else?” he finally snaps, turning around in his chair to glare at the two of them. _

_They stop, at least for the moment, though they're still fuming with anger. There's a moment of silence before Hank suddenly moves, storms out of the room without another word. The door slams shut and Connor sighs as he gets back to work. _

Hank and Elijah often didn't see eye to eye and that- that was fine. They were all researchers, scientists in a way, arguments and dicussions were normal. Up to a certain point.

The line had been crossed when their fights had became much more regular. They started arguing not about their mission, their work, but about their personal lives, about Connor's presence in the group, about Hank's past, about Elijah's refusal to spell out his plans. If someone asked Connor which fight really started their downfall, he wouldn't be able to say. It truly snuck up on them, all of them. One day they were making steady progress towards a better Cloudbank, the next day they were too preoccupied by their petty fights to focus on the bigger picture.

* * *

Connor's exhausted. Exhaustion has been his state of being for a very long time, but now it is true more than ever. With the tensions in the group rising, he has thrown himself into the research wholeheartedly. Hank often tells him to rest, to take a break, but Connor easily ignores those words. His husband's easily distracted by yet another fight and so Connor doesn't have to worry about him prodding about his health.

These days, Connor rarely gets a good night's sleep. During the day, he has no peaceful place to work at. The Camerata's base is often filled with shouts or alternatively, a very tense silence. It's not a good environment for him to focus in. He usually waits the days out, occassionally breaking up some of the fights. Mostly, he's just keeping to himself. He's quieter, these days, smiles less and he feels lonely, in a way. During the late evenings and the nights, that's when he truly gets to work. Hank and Elijah are usually gone during the later hours. Chloe sometimes sticks around to check up on him, but she's calm and gentle and she doesn't interrupt Connor much.

It's one of those nights, tonight, when it's so late and Connor's alone at their base. He's slouched over the same papers as the night before and the night before that night, too. It's quiet and peaceful. His eyes sting with how tired he is, but he's glad to have this opportunity. Maybe once they change the world, they'll change each other, too, and their lives will become content once again, he thinks. He doesn't have much hope anymore.

He's so focused on his reading that he doesn't hear the door open. He doesn't hear the footsteps or something scraping against the floor. The only thing that he does hear is a soft, “I'm sorry, Connor. I'm so sorry,” and then there's a piercing pain in his chest.

His eyes widen and the last thing he sees is the Transistor blinking back at him as it's now sticking right out of his chest.

He blacks out.

* * *

When Connor comes to, it's to shouts and the darkness and the cold. He feels like he's trapped in a dream-like state, floating somewhere in the black nothigness, until his vision clears up. It's strange – he doesn't open his eyes, not really, but the world around him slowly comes into view anyway. His first instict is to move, but he quickly realizes he can't, as if he's paralyzed. He looks around, carefully, afraid of what he might see. What he does see, is the same room he was in before the world around him went black.

The first thing that he notices is that all the papers, the blueprints, the research, all of them previously laid out on his desk, are now gone. Then, there's the broken glass on the floor and then... then, he's looking right into his own eyes. Eyes that are strangely empty, with no life in them. He (his body?) is staring blankly at a spot on the floor. He looks... dead, Connor quickly realizes.

He /is/ dead.

It comes back to him, what happened. The Transistor going right through his chest like it's butter and then he was gone. It was a strangely painless death, he thinks. There was this sharp pain, this burning, but then nothing else. He feels empty now, like air.

He's startled out of his head (maybe not his head, considering that's still sitting on his shoulders, right in front of him) by the sound of more glass breaking. He looks up and sees what's somehow much more painful than the sight of his own body. It's Hank, enraged and broken, shouting at nothing in particular and throwing empty vials around.

Before he knows it, Connor hears his own voice, though he's not sure where it's coming from or how can he produce any sounds.

“Hank? Hank, I'm here. I'm over here. Hank?”

Instantly, Hank tenses up and turns in the direction of his voice. His eyes are moving around wildly, but he keeps avoiding his body like it'd cause him physical pain to look at it.

“Hank, here. I'm here.”

That's when something seems to click in Hank's head. His gaze drifts down to where the Transistor is, blinking in a steady green light whenever Connor speaks.

“Hank. Hank, it's me. I'm here.”

“Fuck,” with that single word on his tongue, Hank crosses the room to get closer to the scene of crime. “The Transistor,” he breathes out. It's enough for Connor to put two and two together, no matter how startling this realization is.

He /is/ the Transistor.

There's a pause as the two of them stare at each other, even though Hank can't even know Connor's looking right back at him.

It's Connor, who gets to break the painful silence.

“...We're not going to get away with this, are we? We've done this to ourselves. All of us.”

Connor knows that no matter whose hands touched the Transistor last, they all brought it upon themselves. All four of them. The moment they've lost sight of what their mission was supposed to be, the Camerata has destroyed itself from inside out. This is simply a physical representation of its ruin.

Hank only huffs in response and reaches for the Transistor. He keeps avoiding looking at Connor's body as he grabs the handle and pulls until the sword is finally out.

“There,” Connor sighs. It's an imitation of a sigh, at best. He can't breathe anymore, he has no lungs, no body, nothing left. Just the Transistor and his voice. “Together again.”

Connor feels the warmth radiating off Hank's body. Off his hands, which are holding him so firmly, yet gently, even though there's nothing that could hurt Connor now. Not physically, at least.

“I'm going to- he's dead. Kamski's fucking dead,” Hank's muttering angrily to himself, his eyes roaming all over the Transistor, pained and curious all at the same time.

“She left me- the Transistor here,” Connor says, slowly. He pays no attention to Hank's angry muttering. He can't allow himself to focus on his own death, he has to focus on the task at hand, the person that killed him, on what it all means for them. On the fact that he's still there, inside the Transistor that shouldn't be in this room in the first place. “Why would she leave the Transistor behind?”

“She?”

Hank's already walking away from his body, deliberately putting as much distance between it and himself as he can. He can't bear to see his husband lifeless, gone. He moves one hand down the Transistor's blade, as if he's stroking Connor's cheek. It's a pleasant touch.

“It was Chloe,” Connor says, the Transistor blinking red for a brief moment as he recalls the moment of his death. “I heard her voice. I heard her say she was sorry.”

Hank looks genuinely taken aback by the new information. Connor knows why. Chloe, the gentle Chloe, she's certainly never came off as the type of person to resolve to this kind of violence. And they were such close friends, too, she and Connor. Were. All in the past, now.

“He made her do this. She wouldn't-” Hank grumbles, as if reading Connor's mind. He trails off and shakes his head, his grip tightening.

“I don't know, Hank. I don't know what happened,” Connor says simply. His light dims for a short moment as he glances towards where his body is, motionless. “What I do know, is that we need to find them. We need to find them and we need to make sure the Transistor is back where it belongs. You know what's going to happen if... if the Process is out of control for too long.”

Hank does know, that's for sure. Long time in the past, he has experienced it first hand, once. The Process left unsupervised, running wild for long enough to hurt someone that was very dear to him.

It's almost ironic, how it's the Transistor that has taken the life of another person important to him, years later. The Transistor, the thing that they've been using to control the Process.

He swallows thickly and nods. They both know they have to move fast - otherwise it's very likely they'd be mourning the entire city rather than just Connor. Connor's not sure what will happen to him once the Transistor's back in its Cradle, but he figures that's a problem for later.

Hank shifts his weight and moves the Transistor so that he's wielding it in one hand, its edge propped up against the floor. He takes a few steps towards the door, but then he stops, turning to look over his shoulder at where Connor's body is, once bright and full of life, now cold and pale.

“Look-” Connor's voice floats through the room, gentle and soft and oh so reassuring even in the face of this catastrophy, “Whatever you're thinking, love- do me a favour. Don't let me go.”

Hank's grip tightens once more and that's a promise enough for Connor.

Without another word, Hank walks out of the room with the Transistor right there by his side.

_Flying in circles, just_ _trying to land,_

_I see you hurting, I do what I can_

**Author's Note:**

> The title as well as the last two lines of this fic come from 'In Circles', a song from the Transistor OST


End file.
